


A Family Matter(s)

by lisachan



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a good year of being together, Judy asks Nick to come meet her parents back in Bunnyburrow.<br/>Nick says yes. It doesn't mean that he <i>means</i> it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Family Matter(s)

**Author's Note:**

> My my. Here I am, shipping furries. Disney, you did it again.

It doesn't happen often - Nick likes to think of himself as an extremely mysterious and enigmatic person, but really, once you get to know him, he basically _isn't_ , he's just extremely dumb, at times, which makes him unpredictable and often puzzling, which despite what he firmly believes is not the same as mysterious and anigmatic -, but sometimes Judy really does not understand him.

"Look," she says, hopping on the desk as she watches him prepare the bags for the trip ahead, putting inside of them an insane quantity of clothes and objects they're clearly not going to need where they're going, among which pens, blankets and, confusingly enough, his Academy diploma, "I get it if you're nervous. But I don't think what you're doing is gonna calm you down. Sit here," she adds reassuringly, patting her hand on the desk next to herself, "Let's talk about it."

"Talk about what?" he plays dumb, heading towards the bed and stopping to look at the wall covered in pictures of them, probably wondering if he should take them too, "I'm _fine_ , Carrots. I just need help packing up, but apparently you don't think we need to pack anything up for a week-long trip to your parents."

"First of all, it's only a week- _end_ ," she corrects him, frowning a little.

"Time is relative," Nick just answers, shrugging, "What's a peaceful and pleasant weekend to you might turn into a week-long trip to hell to someone else."

"And then you say you're not nervous," she arches an eyebrow, crossing her paws over her chest. "Nick. Seriously." Then she stops, staring at him with a baffled expression as he fetches the pillows from their bed and tries to make them fit into the suitcase. "What are you even doing?"

"I told you," he insists, refusing to look at her, "I'm packing up. Isn't it obvious?"

"What do you _think_ we'll ever need pillows for?!" he spits out, hopping off the desk and moving towards him, "My parents have pillows at home!"

"I'm sure of it," he nods, "But they also have an army of little bunnies, and they all need pillows to sleep, so why shouldn't we bring ours? Better safe than sorry."

"Nick!" she grabs the pillows from his paws and throws them back on the bed, "This is crazy. You're acting crazy. Why do you prefer acting crazy instead of sitting down with me and talk it all out?"

"Because," he stops her with a charming smile and a brief kiss on her lips, before she can add anything else, "As I said, there's nothing to talk about. It's as simple as that. You insist it's time I come meet your parents and what do I know about it? Maybe you're right. So let's go meet your parents. But we need to be prepared. There's nothing wrong in being prepared. And if being prepared means we have to bring with us a few extra pillows, then so be it."

"But that's _not_ what being prepared to do this means at all!" Judy whines, hanging on to his shirt and tugging at it, trying to pull him away from the bags, "Nick, please, come on! Let's sit! Let's talk!"

"You said it's important to you," Nick insists, smiling as before, as if he didn't have a single concern in his life, as if he was in control of it all, "And I think what's important to you should be important to me too. I'm perfectly okay with all of this, so I really don't see what it is you think we should talk about."

Judy lets go of his shirt slowly, staring at him, at a loss of words. There's no way to talk things out with Nick when he's in such a state. He tends to lock up behind the doors of complete irrationality whenever he thinks things aren't going the way he wanted them to go. Now, Judy has no idea how he wanted this - traveling to Bunnyburrow, meeting with her parents, see where she comes from, see what her roots mean to her - to go, but this clearly isn't it, or else he wouldn't be acting like this. Maybe he thought he'd have more time, though she doesn't know how she could've granted that. They've been together the last two years, one of which they've spent sharing the same apartment. It simply is time to make this step. She feels as if she's living two separate lives, one over the phone with her parents, the other between the apartment and the Police Station with Nick, and every now and then she sits down on her chair behind the desk at home, the only place in which those two lives collide, because it's the place where she calls her parents from and also the place around which she sits down with Nick discussing the day and eating together, and she feels like none of those lives is real, she feels as if by being disconnected those two different lives are somewhat equally ephemeral, untouchable, like clouds. 

"Is there no way I can convince you to try and speak to me about what's wrong?" she tries to insist one last time.

Nick turns to look at her, as he finally stops messing around with the bags. His ears down, his eyes reflecting sadness and guilt for a moment, he lowers his head, shrugging. "It's gonna be alright," he says. He means well, he wants to reassure her, Judy knows it. The fact is, that's not enough. 

He goes back to his bags right away. Judy watches him shove into them a few of their pictures, then look at the pile of framed photos with uneasy eyes and slowly take them all out, one after the other. He takes his diploma out too, hanging it back where it was on the wall. If Judy didn't know any better, she'd be inclined to believe this a step in the right direction. Now there's only clothes in the bag (and the pillows, but she doubts she'd manage to convince him they won't need them), but she can see from Nick's eyes, from his expression and the way he moves, that didn't empty them of all unnecessary things because now he's okay, but simply because he probably realized how crazy this all must have seemed to her. 

That's not reassuring at all. It just makes things worse. But it's pointless to say it now, so Judy lets it go.

*

Nick's been quiet and pensive all morning, which is never a good thing. Whenever Nick isn't talking, Judy knows there's something very wrong with him. He uses talking as a weapon and a shield, when he stops doing it it's usually because he's given up the fight.

Sighing deeply, she waits for a pit stop at the first gas station down the road and, as she leaves Nick in charge of refueling, she walks a few steps into the parking lot, finding a sufficiently quiet spot from where to call her parents. She forces a smile on her lips because she knows they'd be sad to see her worried or upset, but when they finally answer she realizes she could've done less of faking: they look just as worried and upset as she probably does, and they're not as good as faking otherwise.

"Sweetie!" her mother greets her, forcing a glee she doesn't feel in the least, "Is everything alright? The trip running smooth?"

"Yeah," she answers with a faint smile. She doesn't miss the vague look of disappointment on her mother's face, and the one of clear preoccupation on her father's. "Is there something wrong?"

"What?" her mother jumps up like a bunny caught with its hands in the carrots jam jar, "No, of course! Everything's fine! It's just... we're a little nervous, your dad and I," she goes on, smiling apologetically, "We thought it might be best to send your brothers and sisters at your aunt Gina's for the weekend, you know, just to be safe--"

"Mom," Judy frowns, "Nick wouldn't touch them with a finger."

"Of course he wouldn't, love!" her father barges in, shaking his head, "No, we know! We know perfectly well! It's just, you know how those bunnies get, they're overexcited and they were so eager to meet him, you know, we thought they could jump on him or something and, you know, we didn't want him to feel provoked--"

"He wouldn't feel like that at all if one of my siblings jumped on him!" Judy replies, shocked, "Mom! Dad! Are you serious? You're _working_ with a fox!"

"Well, yes, but, I mean, we _know_ Gideon!" her father tries to explain, "He's a country fox, the city animals are different, you know that, baby. Besides, we've seen him change over the years, we know he's not dangerous anymore!"

"But I'm _telling you_ Nick never was!" she insists, "Can't you trust my word?!"

Her parents don't answer, but the anxious, uncertain glance they exchange gives Judy all the explanations she might need.

Sometimes she really feels like she's the only one fighting this fight. Nick clearly doesn't want to meet her parents, and they clearly don't want to meet with him. Why should she keep insisting? It's obvious none of them really understands why this means so much to her, so maybe she's wrong for caring about it. Maybe she's giving too much importance to something that really hasn't a lot. Maybe she should just give up.

"Judy, love, don't be sad," her father tells her in his sweetest voice, "Once you're here everything will be alright, don't worry. Your mother and I can't wait to see you again, and look, your siblings couldn't be convinced leaving in any way, so they'll be here too! You don't have to worry about a thing."

She lowers her ears, because her father’s reassurances don’t really do much to lift her spirits. He seems convinced things will magically be alright the very moment she steps foot back in Bunnyburrow, but Judy knows that’s far from the truth. Her mother, though she plays dumb and smiles, nodding awkwardly at the camera, seems to feel it too, and that only gives Judy even more reasons to worry.

*

When they hop off the car, Judy tries to walk around it to catch Nick alone for a second before they meet with everybody else, but she doesn’t manage. He avoids her, offering her nothing but a vague smile as he moves to the back and starts fetching their bags from the trunk, and as she attempts to follow him to speak for a while she hears the tapping of more than a hundred tiny feet stomping the ground, and soon enough she’s completely surrounded with bunnies jumping right and left and all around her, all calling her name, trying to catch her attention. “Judy, Judy,” they ask, “How was the trip? Did you drive this car? How is the city? Is it very very crowded? Is there any green? Are there a lot of people?”

Judy laughs and hugs them all, forgetting for a moment all her bad feelings and dark thoughts. She tries to answer all their questions, even the most complicated ones, in a simple way they can understand too despite their young age and the many differences between Zootopia and Bunnyburrow, but at some point all the questions stop, and Judy follows her siblings’ gazes up to the awkwardly still figure of Nick, still standing in front of the trunk, frozen halfway through the process of unloading their luggage.

It’s one of Judy’s sisters the first to talk. She takes a step forward, trying to catch Nick’s eyes, but he keeps looking away. “Judy…” she says in the end, turning towards her, “Is he the boyfriend mom and dad told us about? Is it true? That city foxes are not like country foxes? Is it true…” she whispers secretively, “That they can turn wild and eat bunnies for breakfast?”

For a moment there’s only silence in the courtyard. It’s a thick layer of ice covering them all, and Judy’s about to answer her sister, to scold her, even, and then scold her parents the moment she manages to get them alone, but Nick slowly turns around, a low growl coming out of his throat in a deep, unsettling vibration. Her heart in her throat, Judy follows his movement. She follows him as he looks at her sister, first, and then at the rest of the bunnies, and then, as suddenly as he’s started growling, he stops, and he barks like a silly dog a couple times, while all her siblings flee, laughing and jumping all around, amused by him. 

He turns back towards the car, to take care of the rest of the bags, and there’s a faint smile on his lips, but it’s awkward and eerie, and even though she wants to think he’s joking, that he was just joking with that low growl, she can’t seem to be able to settle down, to make her heart stop racing. “…Nick,” she tries, but once again she’s stopped in her attempt to talk with him. This time, by her parents.

“Judy, sweetie!” her mother greets her, running towards her and wrapping them in a warm, soft hug, “Oh, we missed you so much. Is everything alright? You don’t look really good, love, have you been eating well? Are you okay?”

Judy lets her mother hug her, but she doesn’t hug her back. She’s worried and anxious, and she just wants to be alone with Nick. She wants to talk with him, make sure they’re on the same page – this trip seems to be doing them more damage than it was supposed to, and Judy’s starting to feel really guilty about it.

Her father approaches them soon. He’s clearly worried too, and it’s obvious he’d rather Judy to be alone. Nick tries not to get in the way, which is already uncommon enough to make Judy uncomfortable, and her father tries to ignore him as long as he possibly can, but at some point he has to address him, and he does it awkwardly, clearing his throat a couple of times before greeting him way more formally than Judy’s ever seen him greet anyone. 

“Mr. Wilde,” he says, his voice shaking subtly, “It’s… it’s a pleasure for us to have you here today, and it’s a— we’re very happy to finally meet you. Judy’s told us a lot about you, and we have to admit we were very… very curious about you, and you seem a charming young man, and we can’t wait to, uh… get to know you better.”

He offers Nick his right paw, and Judy doesn’t miss the light shaking of his fingers. 

Nick doesn’t either. He looks down at that trembling, fluffy paw, and with a click of his tongue he just averts his eyes and starts walking away, not towards the farm, but towards the highway. 

Judy’s parents watch them walk away, puzzled, and then they turn towards Judy, asking her silently what does she think it’s going on. She groans and rolls her eyes, whining lightly. 

“He’s pretty weird,” her mother comments, tilting her head, “Are you sure he’s completely fine in the head?”

“Mom, please,” Judy growls, waving her hand in mid-air. She can’t have this conversation with her mother. The only conversation she can have right now is the one she should’ve had with Nick back home, the one she should’ve had with him at the gas station, the one she should’ve had with him when she saw him hop down the car with dark eyes, the one she should’ve had with him when he growled at her siblings. This time, she’s gonna talk, Nick’s gonna listen, and then he’s gonna talk back.

“Stop!” she says, holding him by his shoulder and forcing him to turn around. Nick doesn’t fight her. He turns, but refuses to look at her. She’s never seen him like this, his eyes are so distant, so cold, and his defensive attitude doesn’t match the picture she has of him in her head at all. “Nick— What are you doing? You can’t walk all the way back to Zootopia.”

“Well, I can certainly try,” he shrugs dismissively, his eyes stubbornly fixed to the ground.

“Stop— stop acting like that!” she raises her voice, frustrated and angry, “This is stupid! Why are you acting stupid? It’s ridiculous and you’re gonna stop _right now_!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he sighs dramatically, still looking away, “You don’t get it. They’re bunnies. You all are. They’re never gonna stop being afraid of me. Maybe you could, but you’re different. They’re not. They’re just what they are, like I am what I am, so, you see, this is all pointless, and it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters _to me_!” she yells in his face, holding him by his collar and shaking him hard enough to force him to look back at her again. He seems surprised, he looks at her with his eyes open wide, as if he wasn’t expecting her to react like this at all. “Ugh! Is this what you’ve been thinking over and over in that ridiculously narrow head of yours up until now? That this was pointless? That it didn’t matter? And you even told me you knew that this was important to me!”

“I’m not saying it’s not important, Ju—”

“Shut up!” she says, pointing her finger at him, close enough to hit the tip of his nose, “Shut! Up! I don’t care what you say. You’ve been acting like an idiot since I first asked you to come down here. That’s all you’ve been thinking about! While I was here trying to make this stupid thing work, trying to talk some sense into you _and_ my parents at the same time, you were basically rowing against me! The whole time!”

“Judy, no!” he seems agitated, now. He holds her by her shoulders, squeezing softly, trying to make her calm down, “I wasn’t— Don’t be so angry at me! My God, you’re a fury.” He seems at a loss, and most of all embarrassed with himself, which is definitely a first. Judy sighs, passing a hand over her ears as she tries to calm down.

“Listen,” she says, “I never thought this would be easy. My parents are country animals, my whole family is. We are what we are, but it doesn’t mean we can’t change. I’m fighting for it— I’m fighting _for us_ , for you and me. But I can’t do this alone, I need you by my side. So— please. You need to stop acting like this. You need to walk back with me. I need you by my side.” She looks up at him, locking eyes. “Can I count on you, partner?” she tries with a little smile.

Nick holds his breath for a moment, and then wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. He lets a deep sigh go, and she can feel him lighten up against him, as if freeing himself from some sort of extremely cumbersome, unbearable burden. It feels good. “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?” he asks rhetorically, shaking his head, “I’m so lucky you didn’t have your recording pen with you.”

“Don’t be so sure about it,” she chuckles, moving away from the hug but still holding his paw in her own. “I will use it, if I have to.”

“You’re a cruel, dangerous bunny, Miss Hopps,” he says in a short laughter, squeezing her paw back, “You got me.”

“That I already knew,” she grins, leading him back to the courtyard, where her parents are still standing, waiting for them to come back.

It’s not gonna be easy, she thinks as they walk together in the sunlight, and she breathes in the deep scent of the wood from the barnyard, her eyes filled with the bright green of the grass, her whole being mystified by the lights and colors and smells and tastes of the country, the places she still loves the most in the world, the one she can’t wait to show to the person she loves the most in the world.

It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be worth it. That makes it okay.


End file.
